


Incubi

by WendigoDreaming



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Body Horror, Canon Continuation, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Pining, Poor Hanni, post mizumono
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2046600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendigoDreaming/pseuds/WendigoDreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once it isn't Will who thrashes and sweats through a nightmare. This time it's Hannibal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incubi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WarpedChyld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarpedChyld/gifts), [9_of_Clubs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/9_of_Clubs/gifts), [and basically anyone else who was in that little reblog convo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=and+basically+anyone+else+who+was+in+that+little+reblog+convo).



Will is before him, whole, no longer the convulsing and bleeding thing on the floor of Hannibal’s kitchen that had been burned into Hannibal’s retinas. Normally once he closes his eyes he can see the negative of Will falling apart in his hands, all orchestrated in his control. Those images rock him to an easy sleep most nights, but tonight is not like most nights.

It is one year and after far too much wine and Bedelia leaving him to his own devices for the evening, Hannibal’s mind warps the usual comforting and self-affirming dreams into something wholly new.

"I see you Doctor Lecter." Will whispers, moving closer towards the warmth of the grand fireplace as Hannibal stills his drawing. The metaphor of Achilles and Patroclus still hangs heavy in the air, a ripe fruit on a low branch just waiting to be plucked and gorged on. "I see this." Hannibal’s eyes follow the slow rocking of Will’s hips as he slips closer towards the desk to press the pads of his fingers against the edge of the manilla paper.

"Do you, William? Do you really see?" Hannibal breathes out, staring away, past the younger man now having lost the stray dog look in favour of a wolf’s muzzle. He’s deadly in his own right, with hands not scarred with paper cuts from poorly written psychology papers, but from a man clawing at his wrists and choking beneath his palm.

Will he pluck the fruit and taste that particular juice?

Hannibal wants nothing more than to see it run down his chin and throat.

Will moves back against the desk, perches on the edge and leans across the desk between the drawing and the creator. “Is this really how you see us?” His smile is youthful and amused. “Two men so elevated past everyone else that we only have each other for company?”

Hannibal can’t help but grin and lean forward in the chair. “Would that bother you if I believed it to be the truth?” Then, oh so delicately, his finger reaches out to the wrist spread across the edge of the desk, and his fingertip finds Will’s pulse. It’s even, calm, even as his thumb moves in to brush up along the blue pathway.

"Not at all." Will grins and leans down. "I see. I see what you want, not that you’ve been all that subtle Doctor Lecter." His eyes dart momentarily to the drawing behind him and his grin stretches that much wider. It’s sweeter though, and amused. He looks like a clever little boy who has found a particularly fun toy.

Will’s mouth moves in closer and though Hannibal has had a few choice men and many women before, he has never had Will. Had never felt so eager for anything other than for the space to close between them. He’s more naked now than he had ever been with any of the others. Will’s surprising intrigue and gorgeous mind has cracked his ribs and exposed his beating heart.

It’s all rather trite in a way but also so painfully wanted in another.

"Low," Will whispers, "hanging," he pulls in close enough that his mouth still smelling of wine can be detected, "fruit." 

And then there are lips against his own, a sealing of their silent pact. He sees, he knows, and he accepts.

And that’s all Hannibal has ever wanted.

Hannibal reaches up to hold the face of the marvellous boy before him as his mouth finds pleasure in exploring the parts of Will that not even therapy could reach. Soon, perhaps in a sunny house in Florence, he’ll dig even deeper.

The fire continues to crackle behind them and Will pushes the drawings away behind him, a small needy noise swallowed up by Hannibal’s hunger. “Too much… crap on your desk…” Will chuckles and Hannibal joins in before pushing the lamp right off to crash on the floor. Everything in the house will need to be left behind so the envelope openers and art supplies follow suit. “Eager?” Will laughs as he writhes back on the desk, pulling Hannibal with him.

"Beyond that and into another realm entirely." Hannibal growls up against the boy’s cheek, smoothing his own face against the stubble until he can snarl up into the soft shell of Will’s ear. "Are you not?"

"Oh," Will begins but it falls into a breathy noise of anticipation as Hannibal sucks sharply on the juncture of his jaw and throat, "I never said that."

Their back and forth continues on the desk, rocking with the smooth battle of tongues between their lips. Hannibal finds himself slotted perfectly between Will’s legs and revels in the small hitch of them every time he sweeps his tongue against Will’s molars, the younger man trying to hike up higher.

Will is fidgeting as he tries to hold him.

"Doctor Lecter,  _Hannibal_ , put both your hands on me. Now.” 

Such a bossy boy. Hannibal sighs happily as he nips sharply enough to draw blood and spreads his hands against the expanse of chest. This will be his, his for many more years to come. Like any of the other fineries in life, it must be savoured. His hands part the first button slowly.

When he does he hears the loud  _click_  before he feels the cool wrap of metal. 

Pulling back, he sees not the marvellous boy, but the FBI Special Agent staring back at him. All admiration and intrigue is bleached away from his expression. “Doctor Lecter…” He murmurs, as the sound of the doors being kicked open can be heard, the loud shout of “ _FBI, Doctor Lecter you are under arrest_ " echoing in his grand entrance from Jack Crawford. His eyes flick to the spot he keeps his envelope openers before he hears a tsk. It’s on the floor.

"I see you." Will cranes his head, something akin to pity on his face. Like he’s looking at one of his broken down strays, something so matted and lost that it can’t inspire anything but.

It’s the ugliest expression Hannibal has ever seen on him and it warps his face. His skin ignites on fire, peeling back the layers of flesh to reveal nothing but pitch black. The FBI swirl around them in a nauseating bend of black and blue. Will’s face, the one Hannibal had pined for most uncouthly is being stripped down to something monstrous. But not beautiful. It’s not the beautiful monster Hannibal had envisioned, but something hideous, something deformed. His blue eyes melt down his face in rivets, his curls singe off as his black stomach swells and splits like a decomposing body. Hot, rotting entrails spill onto Hannibal’s expensive pants no matter how he squirms to avoid it, as the smell chokes him.

"I told you…" The creature moans, vaguely sexual as it spreads it’s dripping coal coloured fingers along Hannibal’s cheeks, melting into his own skin. It’s mouth snarls up into a smile, white teeth the only refuge from the black.

"I don’t find you that interesting."

 

__________________

 

When Hannibal jerks awake he can taste blood in his mouth, can feel a pulse in his tongue where it stems from. The silk is sticking to skin, not breathing and causing sweat to collect in the small of his back, lost in the curls at his chest and at the crown of his head.

He isn’t breathing, instead the air is being yanked from his lungs and punched back down his esophagus.

"No!" The word, much like his breath, pulls from within and unleashes into the dark room with the open windows and soft night breeze that provides no relief.

As a medical doctor he knows that it is simply a nightmare. He has had them before, yes, but then the sight of his room would comfort him and ease him back to sleep. There needs to be something to ground the patient in reality, but this isn’t his room though. This is not his intended reality. This is some place in the middle of Florence, so far away from Will and Baltimore, and everything he had once called his reality.

And no matter how he rationalizes that it is impossible for Will to become such a creature, the knowledge that those images had been Will’s intent is nauseating. 

He had given up so much, and Will would have just as easily seen him handcuffed and thrown away. He didn’t want him.

"Enough, breathe." Hannibal says to himself, sitting up in his bed to shuck off his shirt and run his hands over the scars on his wrist, the only reminder of his old reality. It’s sentimental and all too human, but he indulges.

The worst part of it is, through the shivers that will not stop and the breathing that will not calm, he craves the infuriating boy.

He craves to hold him and forgive him, to kiss each feature on his perpetually disgruntled face and tell him he will forget all his transactions if only he comes with him, if only he continues to be interesting and find him interesting in return. If he promises to ease the ache crawling under Hannibal’s skin.

His fingers continue to stroke over the scar, almost tenderly as he coils a fist in an attempt to cease shaking.

He misses Will, and perhaps worst of all, he still loves him enough to want him to catch him.

"Come catch me, you infuriating boy." Hannibal says to the open window, before the evening is been deemed lost and the amount of humanity too much. So instead he rises from bed and goes to retrieve a Chianti with the same vintage as Will.

**Author's Note:**

> Named for the italian word for "nightmares", which also happens to be where "incubus" comes from (still rather fitting!).
> 
> This was inspired by the reblog chain on Tumblr which in essence stated: 
> 
> "You know what I want? Hannibal, who is always so put together, so hidden behind his walls, to have a nightmare (similar to the ones will has) that completely tears him apart. To show that he is still human, despite the dragon he has become. And this makes him want the comfort of will more than ANYTHING. PLEASE. I WANT HANNIBAL TO PINE HARDCORE."
> 
> So I said... WHY NOT, and wrote it. There obviously was no beta used so comments are super appreciated! 
> 
> Come say hi to me at dweeby.tumblr.com


End file.
